


Writing for Release

by belovedplank



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Angst, Epic, Humor, M/M, Pining, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-23
Updated: 2012-07-23
Packaged: 2017-11-10 14:09:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/467174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belovedplank/pseuds/belovedplank
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam wants to move out of his flat and into a real house. He decides to make his time-travel experience into a novel, in order to fund this move.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Writing for Release

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers: I’ll say everything, just to make sure. Definitely 2.07, 2.08 and…1.05 (undercover in the pub ep)?  
> Disclaimer: The LoM cast are not mine (or this pairing would have been canon, and A2A would never have occurred!) They are the property of the BBC and Kudos, and are brought to life by the wonderful JS and PG, who should be bowed before *bows*
> 
> Note: I must give a thousand million thanx to DorsetGirl, who not only beta-read this fic (and brilliantly might I add, in spite of never having assisted with a WiP before!), but worked darn hard to help me through my writer’s block and smooth out all the rough patches!

Sam was surprised how swiftly things returned to normal; well, as normal as he could expect, living through 1973 for the second time. At least this time he had chosen to be there. 

CID had quickly recovered from Sam’s betrayal, even Ray; well, Ray did not treat Sam any worse than usual, which amounted to the same thing!

Upon his return, Sam had kissed Annie; something he did not regret, but within a week of his decision to remain in the ‘70’s, he had also come to the realisation that however much he cared for Annie, he would never be in love with her the way that she deserved. His heart lay elsewhere, even though he was unable to admit it to himself yet. So, ending the relationship before it had even really begun, Sam managed to maintain their friendship, cemented in their shared secrets of his ‘past’ life.

*****

So the months continued to pass, and Sam settled down, finally content in this brown and orange world of booze, fags and political incorrectness. But his return to 1973 also meant returning to that dark, dank and dingy flat. Finally unable to stand the squalor, he decided to change it. If he was going to stay here, his home had to at least be liveable until he could afford a proper house.

Although he was desperate to get rid of the wallpaper, he was even more desperate for a proper bed – a bed that an adult male could actually fit in. Upon returning, one of the few things from 2006 he continued to yearn for was his king-size four-poster. Sleeping in what was little more than a cot, each night praying that it would not collapse beneath him, became too much to take. So, after a few months of setting aside some of his wages; and omitting a night at the Railway Arms every week (everyone who had been in his flat agreed it was for a good cause, even Gene, who rarely thought anything was worth missing beer for) he finally managed to purchase a half-decent double bed, complete with bedding.

And then came the wallpaper. Sam may have chosen to come back to the ‘70’s, but that did not mean he liked everything about the period – and the current decorating style was one of those things that he categorically did not like. So, purchasing several tins of magnolia paint, Sam started tidying round, clearing space so that he could start covering up that monstrosity that called itself wallpaper. 

*****

As he was tidying up the paperwork, books and random flotsam and jetsam which he had managed to accumulate over the months, Sam came across a black hard-back diary. Frowning, he opened it, rooting through for the first entry, made on the date he first arrived…  
My name is Sam Tyler. I had an accident, and I woke up in 1973. Am I mad, in a coma, or back in time? Whatever's happened, it's like I've landed on a different planet. Now, maybe if I can work out the reason, I can get home.

Quickly becoming engrossed, Sam started to make his way through the diary, reliving all the emotions again as he went over the highs and lows of his time here. Skimming over the incident with his father, Sam flipped forward to happier times; the undercover pub operation with Gene was something he always remembered with fondness, and how proud he was when he cleared Gene’s name, even though all the pieces seemed to point at him. 

Feeling the tears well up as he read over his thoughts, seeing how he was battling inwardly with his desire to return ‘home’, and his belief and trust in Gene. Allowing tears to fall as he relived seeing his mother and returning to a world he had never realised was cold and white and heartless, in comparison to loud and orange and warm. Inwardly, he had been a typical four year old boy – wanting what he could not have, and hating it when he got it. 

Wiping his eyes on the sleeve of his shirt, he placed the diary on his bedside, and, with a surprisingly lighter heart, returned to the job in hand. 

*****

Later, as he settled down on the sofa in Gene’s office away from the paint fumes in his flat, he thought of the diary again. 

‘It reads like a cop’s science fiction novel’, he thought. 

He felt like he was finally going to drift off when that thought returned to the forefront of his mind, and he leapt from the couch with a click of his fingers, as if to say ‘That’s it!’ 

Picking up the Yellow Pages, Sam made his way carefully over to his desk, and grabbed a clean notepad and a new pen. 

The sun was just beginning to rise as Sam finally put down his pen, his notepad now containing a list of potential publishers, and a bullet-pointed storyline, complete with names for all the ‘fictional’ characters involved. Pleased with his progress, he placed the pad at the very bottom of his bottom drawer, and returned to the sofa – even a few hours sleep was better than no sleep.

*****

The weeks went by and Sam returned to the pub. Life plodded on, as normal and monotonous as life in Manchester CID could possibly be.

He told no-one of his foray into supposedly fictional writing and, as he expanded on the detail of the storyline, including a brief back-story for each of the characters, and even drafts of several scenes, he sent a copy off to each of the publishers he had found, with a brief explanation that he was a DI who had come into contact with a mentally disturbed man. This man had thought himself to be from the future; which had inspired this story.

*****

Several months passed, and although Sam had started to draft out the story, he started to think that it would be purely for himself, and was glad that he had continued to put aside a little of his wages every week towards a nest egg that would, he hoped, eventually be a down-payment for a real house. 

One day, out of the blue, he received a letter; a letter from a company that Sam knew was to become Bloomsbury Publishing. And with that letter there was a cheque; a down-payment for him to purchase a typewriter, on which he was to type up his first draft of his novel, to be sent to them as soon as possible. They were actually commissioning the book!

The other CID members were wary of Sam the next day, he was far too perky. Although he was more of a morning person than the rest of the staff, he was not usually quite so happy and some of them worried that it may be the return of ‘Crazy Tyler’. Even Gene, who secretly liked to see Sam smiling for a change, quickly got fed up with his perkiness and demanded he either explain or stop it before his pretty white smile was ruined by Gene by knocking out a few teeth! 

At that Sam made an effort to tone down his outward reaction, but he was quite proud of himself. Although he had always taken pride in his work and knew that he was damn good at his job, deserving of the title of DCI which he still thought of occasionally, it was nice to know that there was more to him than just the job.

*****

It was December, and the year of 1974 was drawing to a close. Mud were permanently on the radio with a Christmas song Sam was already sick of when it was played ‘for the first time ever!’ and he had shocked Annie by managing to learn the words to the new Barry White hit "You're the First, the Last, My Everything" within days of it’s release (nothing to do with the fact that he had been subjected to it at parties, dances, weddings and various and sundry other occasions for the last 30 years!). 

The decrease in temperature seemed to mean a decrease in work for them; very strange for the time of year, with theft usually rife on the run-up to Christmas. Gene declared it was merely the calm before the storm, and it just meant that the ‘gobshites were just set on ruining Crimbo for us decent ‘ard-workin coppers by leavin’ all their thievin’ and criminal ways till the last possible minute!’ but Sam was glad of the respite, however temporary, as it gave him time to finish his book. 

*****

Typing up that last page, Sam spent over an hour just staring at the pile of papers on his table, wondering what was going to happen next. He wanted someone to read it before he actually sent it off to the publishers. He was somewhat worried that it may be a little too self-involved, as so much of it was practically lifted directly from his diary. And, with the content of the story being what it was, he knew that the only person he could ask was Annie.

So, bribing her with food, he invited her round to the flat for a meal. The fact that the request was overheard and they both proceeded to have the piss taken out of them for the remainder of the day did not stop Annie from accepting, for which Sam was grateful.

Over a nice red and some rich, tasty Spaghetti Bolognese (made from scratch, as Sam was quick to inform her), he managed to explain what he had been doing over the last few months, and requested that Annie be the first to read it. 

“You’re the only one who knows anything about what I was going through when I first arrived here, and quite frankly, you’re the only one I know will give me both an intelligent and honest response.”

Touched that Sam chose her to share this with her (even though she understood that logically, she was probably his only option, being that none of the boys knew of his ‘Back from the Future’ theory), she was quick to acquiesce to his request, and took the papers home to read over the coming weekend.

*****

Annie was astonished to find her entire weekend had gone whilst she immersed herself within Sam’s pages. She was also surprised by how much of himself Sam revealed in the story right from the very first line. She smiled at his interpretation of Gene upon his arrival at CID, remembering Sam being grabbed by the lapels and flung into Gene’s office. And she chuckled at a line bitten out by ‘Gareth Harris’ which she could hear Gene saying: Anything happens to this motor, I'll come 'round your houses and stamp on all your toys. Got it? Good kids.

Her eyes welled up as she read how he felt that day on the roof, and she could practically feel the sand in her hand again as ‘Angela Carpenter’ said; We all feel like jumping sometimes, Steve. But we don’t you and me. Because we're not cowards.

Annie had always known that Sam was an eloquent man, but she had no idea that he would have a flair for this sort of thing. For, even though she knew at least the basic details of each case, his writing drew her in as if learning of them for the very first time, complete with asides referencing his ‘past’ adding to the mystery, and the sheer amount of detail actually making her wonder.

As the story progressed, Annie was sent back to all the cases he was going through; the murder that wasn’t a murder at the mill (complete with references from Sam about it being his future home), then Warren’s arrest. Her main memory of this time had been finding Sam naked and handcuffed to his bed, but his version of events shed a new light on the ordeal. 

But interspersed with the cases as seen through Sam’s eyes, were constant references to his ‘past’ life; hearing the voices of his doctor’s and his mother through the radio, the television and the phone, and even the Test Card Girl. Sam had never told her that part, she was sure that he thought that that would be too much for her - she’d have definitely thought he was crazy. But Sam managed to make it sound so creepy and yet strangely believable at the same time, that Annie could not bear to leave the television on that night once the Test Card appeared on the screen.

One of the darkest and hardest parts for her to read was Sam’s version of the events surrounding Vic Tyler. Sam was totally honest, talking of going to meet his mother, and his absurd happiness at seeing a man he had not seen since the age of four. At the same time, he outlined his recurring nightmare of tiny children’s feet running, and a flash of a woman in a red dress, her screams. The pain as the two pieces finally fit together, and he realises that his father really did leave because of him, and the man he had idealised for so long shattered any and all illusions he had about his father being anything good. The guilt he felt for turning a gun on Gene is mentioned several times throughout the rest of the story, it becoming a part of his nightmares, and a nightmare that she knows he still has occasionally.

That incident aside, with each case she could hear his growing fondness and respect for his team; willing to cope with the barbs of an envious ‘Robert Carlsberg’, and resigning himself to being a mentor for the seemingly dim-witted ‘Charles Scott’, determined that there was the making of a good copper beneath the nervous bravado. 

But it was his opinion of Gene (‘Gareth’) that seemed to undergo the most drastic although gradual change. Already indignant at being demoted from DCI in 2006 to DI in 1973, Sam was initially shocked at Gene’s behaviour and manner; his treatment of suspects, his cavalier attitude of ‘hit first, ask questions later’, the backhanders, the ‘fitting up’, his permanent attachment to a hip-flask and/or a fag…the list went on. Actually, his early opinion of Gene was summarised quite aptly in a quote from Sam himself; An overweight, over-the-hill, nicotine-stained, borderline-alcoholic homophobe with a superiority complex and an unhealthy obsession with male bonding.

But Sam had managed to make an impact on Gene; and as his ‘Hyde Ways’ and ‘picky pain in the arse’ manner started to succeed, Sam gained Gene’s respect, and Gene started to adapt to the new ways. No more ‘fit ups’, no more backhanders, and Sam started to respect Gene as he started to become the copper Sam knew he could be. At the same time, Sam too adapted; more willing to undergo the ‘good cop, bad cop’ routine, allowed the odd slap - all the while ensuring that everyone understood where to draw the line. 

It was just something mentioned about the way Gene looked during the undercover pub operation - a vague reference to him looking ‘dashing’ in his green shirt - that niggled at the back of her mind. Then there was Sam’s reaction to Gene’s arrival with Suki at the ‘Swingers Party’; it was more than anger, almost…jealousy? 

Then there was the case were it seemed that Gene had actually killed someone – Sam was the only member of CID who seemed 100% sure of his innocence. Not even Ray, who had worked with Gene right through the force, could put that much faith in him. But Sam did, and he was right. 

And then, there was the betrayal…  
Reading about the build-up, all the vitriol he was spewed by Morgan, his confusion about who he really was (Williams or Tyler? Coma or amnesia?), actually made her feel sorry for him in hindsight. But when she read about his return to the future, how cold and heartless and alone he felt, and finally, his decision to return by ending his life there, she could understand why he did it. 

Sam never explicitly stated on the page the reason why he returned, but it was so obvious. It wasn’t for her (not even mentioning that he kissed her when he came back), it was for Gene. 

Annie was unsure if even Sam had realised, but he was in love with Gene Hunt. And while it was obvious from what he had written, the book would not sell if the leading male character was so obviously in love with his equally male superior officer, so Annie was going to have to point it out.

*****

That Monday morning – after spending Sunday night wondering what on earth she was going to say, Annie met Sam down in the canteen to discuss his novel over a nice cup of tea. The place was empty at such an early hour, which was good, because this was not going to be a conversation that either would want to be overheard!

She began with the truth – telling Sam how much she enjoyed the story, how it pulled you in from the beginning. She added that she had been surprised by quite how honest Sam had been, how much of himself he had included in the book.

Looking pleased with all the compliments, Sam agreed with her. “That was one of the reasons I asked you to read it over. Some of the stuff is lifted pretty much directly from my diary, and I was worried that parts of the story may be a little too self-involved.”

Completely unsurprised at Sam’s admission to having (and actually keeping) a diary, Annie was quick to reassure Sam. “No Sam, it’s not that, its just…I think that you’ve poured so much of yourself into the book, that you’re showing emotions I don’t think you meant to reveal.”

The look of complete bewilderment on Sam’s face assured Annie that she was right; Sam really was oblivious to his own feelings for Gene. Taking a deep breath, Annie braced herself. “OK Sam. Let’s take your relationship with Gene. You care about him, and I know that already, but it’s really obvious in how you write.”

“Yeah, and? He’s my DCI and my friend – of course I care about him! And he’s one of the main characters, so of course I mention him a lot.” 

“But Sam, I don’t think you realise how much those feelings come across on paper. For example, I know you care for Gene, but until I read this, I hadn’t grasped how important he was to you. You came back for him.”

“I came back for all of you!”

Annie shook her head sadly. Pushing the pile of papers that constituted the novel over to her friend, she decided to forego any attempt at diplomacy and just be blunt; “Sam, you’re in love with Gene. And you’ve made that emotion quite obvious in this.”

Sam just looked up at her, his mouth gaping like a fish.  
Glad that he had not immediately gone off into a rant denying the whole thing, Annie continued; “I’ve gone through the entire thing, and it is brilliant stuff Sam. But there are parts where your feelings are painfully obvious, and it could cause problems if you sent this version to the publisher. Because a novel about a man in love with his male DCI? Is destined to fail – if they even publish it!”

Sam just looked at her blankly for a moment. “Gene? Me?...Me and the Guv?” 

He started to giggle. Allowing him a few minutes, Annie intervened when she realised that he was becoming somewhat hysterical. Getting him a glass of water, she tried to calm him enough to focus on her. When her quiet repetitive ‘Sam?’ garnered no response, she placed her hands on his shoulders and shook him slightly; “Samuel Tyler, calm down!!”

Taking a deep breath – and starting to cough slightly, as he was still giggling whilst he had breathed in, Sam started to calm down slowly. Sipping from his glass of water, Sam looked up at her apologetically. “I’m sorry; it’s just…not what I was expecting you to say.”

“I guessed that. There’s nothing wrong with your feelings Sam, but you need to acknowledge and accept them. You need to work through this, because what you’ve got here really is good, and it deserves to be published. It deserves to be read.”

Seeing that he was about to deny it, Annie stood before he had the chance to; “Just think about it Sam. Just read it over – I’ve made a few notes where I think it’ll need a little editing. If you want anymore assistance or if you need to talk…you know where I am.” 

Kissing him lightly on the cheek, Annie proceeded to walk out of the canteen; with perfect timing. For within seconds of her departure, the next shift started to drift in, wanting some sustenance before starting work. 

Still somewhat shell-shocked at what he had been told, Sam gathered up his papers and made his way up to CID – quickly placing the entire draft of the novel in his bottom drawer, away from prying eyes. 

*****

For a change, CID were not called out at all that day, leaving Sam sitting at his desk, ensuring all of the necessary paperwork was complete before the end of the month.  
Gene may hate all forms of paperwork, but he also hated being called into the Super’s office to be reprimanded for not doing said paperwork. 

Usually, Gene would be growling like a bear with a sore head for the entire day, while he was subjected to doing all of the paperwork for himself; which had often included bawling out his men for not filling in their own paperwork correctly – if at all. However, since Sam’s arrival, all paperwork was filled in – and checked by Sam himself before it was filed in Gene’s office, making the end of the month paperwork much easier. In spite of this, Gene often burdened Sam with the job, whilst he went looking for a new case. 

After his discussion with Annie, Sam felt far from ready for an argument with Gene about whether or not he was going to do Gene’s work for him. So he went straight up to the still empty CID, got all the necessary stuff from Gene’s office, and was already well into the paperwork when Gene arrived.

Now the thought had been planted in his mind, Sam could not help but notice how attractive Gene was as he strode into the room; camel coat swinging around his legs, lips pursed as he blew a stray piece of soft blonde hair out of startling blue eyes. Sam quickly lowered his eyes down to the papers at his desk as Gene’s gaze landed on him.

“What’s this Gladys? No lecture about how I should do be doing all this myself? How much easier it would be if I did the paperwork as I went, rather than leaving it till the end of the month? No argument that-”

Sam cut him off, rubbing a hand over his eyes to avoid having to look at Gene. “Not today please Ge-Guv. Just be glad I’m not. I’m sure I’ll make up for it tomorrow.”

Gene raised his eyebrows at Sam cutting him off, and did not fail to notice that Sam stopped himself from referring to him by his first name. Gene would have been happy to continue their ‘discussion’, but when Sam lowered his hand and Gene actually got a good look at his face, he decided against it. It looked like Tyler had enough on his mind, and Gene was not inclined to add to it if it meant he got a days peace and all of his paperwork done for him.

As soon as all of the CID team had finally arrived, Gene burst out of his office, slamming the door back against the wall to ensure he had everyone’s attention – noting that Sam did not so much as glance up from the papers covering his desk.

“Right Gents – and Lady, Dorothy over there is doing my paperwork for the month, and without whining about it for a change. So, DI Tyler is NOT to be disturbed today AT ALL. If anything seems so important, come and see me – but it had better be good if you do that. So, that means I expect this office to be quiet; I hear a raised voice that isn’t mine, I’ll ream you one so hard your testicles’ll be comin’ outta your ears! You got that?” 

When he received a quiet murmur of assent, Gene nodded at his team, sparing a moment for another glance at Sam, who still had yet to look up from his papers, before stomping back into his office, actually closing the door quietly behind him.

*****

Although Sam did not acknowledge it, he was glad that the Guv had told the rest of the team not to disturb him. He was having a hard enough time concentrating on the papers in front of him without the added distraction of interruptions. After spending almost an hour trying to sort through everything with little to show for it, Sam finally caved, and pulled the pile of papers that constituted his novel from the drawer. 

Promising himself that he would only spend an hour flicking through it to go over Annie’s notes, and see for himself where Annie had got the preposterous idea that he was in love with his Boss – and ignoring the inner voice that informed him how  
UN-preposterous it was, Sam started to read, not noticing the entire morning pass him by.

*****

Reading that line over again, Sam could almost feel the realisation dawn as the penny finally dropped. He had acclimatised himself to the fact that he found Gene attractive, but he had not been ready to accept just how deep those feelings went. He was glad that he had decided to remain in the office rather than go to lunch, meaning that there was no-one else in CID as he whispered to himself; “I love Gene Hunt. Oh My God – I’m in love with Gene Hunt!” 

Feeling lightheaded at the thought, Sam stuffed the papers back in the drawer and made his way outside, thinking that the fresh air would do him some good. 

However, when he got outside, it was to be greeted by the sight of the man himself, slamming the door of his bronze goddess and stomping along the pavement, his camel-hair coat unbuttoned and his hair haphazardly ruffled by the wind. Feelings Sam had only just started to recognise threatened to overwhelm him, and he backed up to the wall as he started to hyperventilate. 

Luckily, Annie had just stepped out of the station, and managed to reach him before the Guv did.

“Sam? Sam, come on now, calm down. Just take some deep breaths.” 

As Sam slid down the wall into a crouch and put his head between his knees, Annie placed a hand on his back and rubbed soothingly. Managing to move the Guv on with a look and a shake of her head, Annie returned her attention to her seemingly terrified, but finally calming friend. 

Once his breathing had slowed to something vaguely approaching normal, Sam lifted his head from between his knees, and his terrified gaze focused on the woman beside him. 

“Annie, Annie you were right. You were right about my feelings for him. What am I going to do?!”

Unable to stand seeing that terrified and broken look on his face, Annie knelt down and pulled him into her arms. Stroking a hand up and down his back, she just held him until he stopped shaking. Helping him to his feet, she led him away from the station steps – and from prying eyes. However, if she had not wanted their interaction to be observed, she should have chosen a better spot than the alleyway that constitutes the view from Gene’s office window.

Leaning against the wall of a neighboring building, Annie pulled out a pack of cigarettes that she kept in her handbag for times of extreme stress; she thought Sam might need the help to calm down. Without as much as a peep of protest (which revealed to Annie just how frazzled he was), Sam took the fag and inhaled deeply, his entire body seeming to slump as he blew the smoke from the side of his mouth. 

“Sam, you needed to realise that you had these feelings in order to accept them and move on from them. There’s nothing wrong with what you’re feeling-”

Sam cut her off, flinging the cigarette to the ground as he gestured wildly and paced in front of her. “I know that! I am from a more enlightened time, I’ve had relationships with men before. It was accepted there. But here? In love with a man in 1975, with Gene Hunt? It’s just…it’s just not possible!”

“But it’s true Sam. You said so yourself. But now that you have recognised it, you can work on moving on, and get over these feelings before they start to affect your working relationship.”

Sam stopped in his tracks, and turned to face her, his emotions clear for the world to see; he looked like a man whose world was shattering around him. 

“But that’s the problem Annie, I can’t move on. I can count on one hand the number of relationships I’ve had where I have actually seriously considered the possibility that they could be the one that lasts. That person I could really have fallen permanently in love with. And obviously, all of those relationships failed. But my feelings for Gene? They are so far beyond anything I’ve ever felt before – even for Maya, who was the closest thing to a fiancée I’ve ever had. This is it for me Annie. He’s it. And I know that sounds really girly, but I mean it. Now I finally know what I feel, I know that it’s not a feeling that’s going to fade. So how do I cope? How do I get through the day, tomorrow – the rest of my life, beside him, feeling like this?” 

In spite of how much it had hurt her to hear, she could not bear to see one of her closest friends in this much pain; she could almost see his heart breaking. She wrapped her arms around him once again, and tucked his face into her neck, hiding his tears. She had no idea what to say to him, because she knew that nothing she could possibly say would make him feel better.

*****

 

Once he had calmed down (again), he pulled away and looked at her sheepishly, reminding her of a four year old boy as he wiped his eyes on his shirt-sleeve. And it was that look that encouraged her to be honest with him.

“Sam, I don’t know what to tell you really, I wish I did, because it hurts to see you hurting like this. So please, don’t be hurt by my bluntness. You have to live with it Sam. I know that this initial stage of realisation hurts now, and that unrequited love is never a happy emotion to have, but try to think of it in a positive light. You have found the person that completes you; you’ve found ‘The One’. You’re lucky – some people go their whole lives without doing that. And yes, that feeling is not returned, but he is still in your life, still an integral part of your life, and he does care for you. Treasure what you have with him, and try to be content with that. You’ve managed OK so far.”

Sam knew that Annie was right, he was lucky in a way. And he had come back for Gene; he did not think he could cope here without him. So he would have to learn to live with his emotions, and control himself, in order to maintain the relationship they already had. 

Strengthening his resolve, Sam straightened up, wiped a hand over his face and took a deep, calming breath. Turning to Annie, he smiled shakily. “You’re right Annie – again. Thank you, for this. You’re a good friend.” Leaning over, he gave her a light peck on the cheek.

She smiled equally shakily back at him. “You’re a good man Sam. You deserve to be happy.”

Pulling his shoulders back, Sam took another deep breath, determination setting on his face as he turned back towards the station. Holding out a hand to the woman beside him, Sam asked, “Shall we go back then?”

Squeezing his hand, she nodded and together, they made their way back up the stone steps to the station. As they reached the doors, she stopped him for a moment to straighten his clothes and smooth down his hair. Once they reached the desk, she patted his arm and whispered, “You’ll be alright Sam.”

Nodding at her – and at Phyllis, who Annie was relieving so she could go to lunch, Sam mouthed ‘Thank you’ at her before making his way to the stairs. 

*****

Meanwhile, upstairs in CID, Gene Hunt let the blinds fall from his fingers as he watched his DI and WDC make their way back into the station. Although unable to hear what they were saying, Gene had managed to watch most of their discussion, with a mixture of worry, curiosity and jealousy. Worried as to the state his DI was in, curious as to what caused it, and inexplicably jealous that Sam had chosen to turn to the plonk. 

Hearing Sam enter the main office, Gene walked across the room to peak through the blinds that separated him from the rest of his team. He could no longer see the troubled thoughts, fear and worry that had clouded Sam’s eyes all day, only a look of determined resolve. In spite of how it made Gene himself feel, Sam’s little talk with Annie seemed to have worked, and that was the important thing. Reminding himself that it may be worthwhile to check on Tyler later, Gene returned to his desk, and his whisky.

As soon as Sam returned to his desk, he ensured that his novel, those pages that had brought these earth-shattering emotions to light, were carefully hidden back in the drawer before flinging himself into Gene’s paperwork, wading his way through it with a single-minded focus that quickly made up for the lack of work he ended up doing that morning. 

*****

Ignoring the sounds of the team drifting out, Sam was still there long after Gene called beer o’clock. Only the sound of his name finally jolted him from the practically perfect piles of paperwork, which he was so close to finishing.

“Tyler! What the flaming heck are you still doing here?”

Attempting to circumvent the query, Sam did not look up from his desk as he inquired as to why Gene himself was back. With a barked response that he had forgotten his house keys, Gene repeated his question.

“Oi Nancy, you never answered my question – why are you still here, rather than down the Arms?”

Still unable to quite look Gene in the eye, Sam focused on his shoulder as he replied; “I wanted to get this finished, and I don’t think I’ll be down the pub tonight Guv. I’m beat, and my eyes are going kinda squiffy from reading over all this.”

Nodding, although not really believing the response, Gene leaned against a desk as he tried to work out how to phrase the question he really wanted to ask, before deciding to just go with his usual bluntness. “So, what was that about at lunchtime? You looked about to keel over.”

Paling, Sam froze for a moment, before blurting out something about a dust allergy, but Gene did not buy that; Sam had spent hours with him in the dusty tomb that was Lost and Found without so much as a cough. So he persisted, informing Sam that he had seen him and the plonk talking from the window.

Gene was surprised to see all of the colour (and there wasn’t much there to begin with) drain from Sam’s face at his statement, and he grasped Sam by the arm; he really looked like he was going to faint.

Sam finally remembered to breathe again as it registered that Gene had not actually heard any of his discussion with Annie, and the colour started to return to his face as he shook away Gene’s hand. 

“To be quite honest Guv, it was a personal thing. Something very personal has come to light recently, and it just sort of hit me, and I ended up having a bit of a panic attack. Sorry for going all ‘Dorothy’ on you, Annie just thought that I might calm down somewhat if I could talk it through with someone.”

Unable to come up with a response to that, Gene just grunted. “Fine then, you get your delicate little self off home, and here’s hoping you’re in a better mood tomorrow ‘ey?”

Striding off towards the doors, Gene stopped just before pushing them open. Not turning back to Sam, his quiet words nevertheless reverberated throughout the room. 

“Sam, I know I’m no psychologist or whatever, but if you wanted to go all ‘Dorothy’ about something important…it wouldn’t go any further.”

Sam had to swallow a lump in his throat before responding in a hoarse voice, “Thanks Guv. That means a lot.” 

“And on that note, I definitely need a drink.” 

******

So, Sam just took each day as it came, and as he got used to his feelings, he managed to slip back into the routine of barbs, punches and bickering with his DCI. Their relationship was back to normal – at least on the surface, and Sam just tried to be happy with the moments he had with Gene.

He returned to the Arms – but started to watch himself, not wanting to get too drunk and blurt out something he shouldn’t. 

Him and Annie started to spend more time together; working on his novel, but also just doing normal day to day things. It made him smile that the fact that she had realised he was in love with a man – that he had gay tendencies, had made her think he would enjoy going shopping with her. But he went regardless, and enjoyed spending time with the only person he could be completely himself with, with whom he did not have to watch what he said and did.

******

It was almost a year to the day that Sam and Annie had managed to hash out an amended version, and send this first draft off to the publishers, when Sam finally received the first copy of ‘Timeless Copper’ by ‘John Simm’.

With a grin, Sam grabbed a pen and scribbled something inside, before tucking the book into his jacket and departing for work. 

Arriving early, Sam sat down in a practically deserted canteen with Annie.  
Putting down his tea, he looked up at her as he reached inside his jacket. 

“I have a little gift for you.”

Placing the book in front of her, he smiled sheepishly; “I thought that if anyone should have the first copy, it’d be you.” 

Smiling down at the book, the pseudonym something Sam wouldn’t explain, but which had made him chuckle heartily when he chose it; she opened it carefully, almost unwillingly, not wanting to crease the spine. 

She turned to the acknowledgements first. She had read the story before but these were Sam’s words, Sam’s emotions, and something to which she had not yet been privy. 

There were the obvious acknowledgements first; to the publisher, for taking a chance on something so obscure, and his ‘real life’ work colleagues (mentioning no names of course) who are the basis for his characters. And then, there was a space, before the last few lines:  
And lastly, I have to thank Annie, without whom I doubt this book would have ever been published. She was my strength through one of the strangest times of my life, and my greatest friend. I am thankful every day that she is part of my life.

Scribbled beneath the neat typeface were a few more words; ‘I know where home is now. I’m staying here. Thank you. Sam x’

Feeling the tears in her eyes, Annie stood and came round to Sam’s side of the table, flinging her arms around him, allowing a few tears to escape as she declared how proud she was of him.

“What’s Gladys done now? He getting an award for killing a rainforest with all his paperwork?” barked the Guv as he strode in, plonking himself on a table beside them as he yelled at the lady behind the counter; “Oi! Bacon buttie and a strong cuppa tea - and make it snappy, got that poof Dorian in Lost and Found; got to get back before Carling takes his head off.” 

Getting no response from either of the people beside him, other than furtive glances, he just growled, snatching his sustenance off the lady unfortunate enough to have to bring it over and muttering “Bleedin’ lovebirds!’ as he stormed off back to Ray. 

Sam could hear him still muttering as he stamped down the corridor, but could not make out what he was saying. So he missed the scowl on Gene’s face and the tone of jealousy in his voice as he remarked quietly to himself; “Thought he didn’t want in her knickers?”

*****

It was after lunch before Annie got the chance to speak to Sam again. Perching herself on the corner of his desk, she placed the book in front of him and tapped the front cover. 

“Good job only we know the meaning behind that dedication, or all my careful editing could have gone to waste!” 

Giving him a smile to show she was only teasing, she allowed him to turn to the page containing the dedication. In spite of his gushing thanks in his acknowledgements, the novel itself was dedicated to only one person, the three words hiding emotions Sam knew only he and Annie could see; For my Guv.

*****

The book surprised critics by quickly making its way onto the bestseller list, meaning an extra boon for Sam. Because, as the book became more and more popular, his monthly cheques grew larger, and within 8 months of it’s release, Sam finally had the money he needed; he was leaving his poky little flat for a quaint two-bedroom house, not 15 minutes walk from the station.

The morning he signed the papers for the property, he did so with a broad smile; a grin that did not leave his face all day.

*****

After ensuring that no ones attention was focused upon him, Sam walked over to Gene’s office and, a rarity for him, actually knocked before walking in.

Gene raised an eyebrow as Sam closed the door behind him.

“What’s up with you Nancy? Knocking on the door and everything. Finally learn some manners?”

Sam was quick to retort “I have impeccable manners Guv – I just don’t see the point in wasting them on you!”

Gene just shook his head before looking Sam square in the eye and asking bluntly, “So, whaddaya want? You better not start on another ‘procedure’ kick, ‘coz I really can’t be arsed with it today Tyler.”

Sam shook his head quickly. “No Guv, nothing like that. Actually…I kind of have a favour to ask.”

Gene was momentarily surprised (a look he was quick to wipe from his face), before he leaned back in his chair. He was going to enjoy this.

“Oh, alright then, this I have to hear. What does the great Sam Tyler need from the Gene Genie?”

Sam took a deep breath. “Well, y’know I signed the papers on my house today?”

Gene rolled his eyes. “The grin on your gob? I’d be surprised they can’t see it in Blackpool! So **yes** , I’d managed not to miss that lil bit of gossip. So?”

“Well, one or two rooms need a lick of paint, and I need to get my stuff out of the flat. And with me not having a car…”

Gene shot out of his relaxed pose and slammed both palms on his desk. “There is **no chance** that I am lending you my motor Sam, so don’t even **try** to ask!”

“No Guv, I don’t want the Cortina – Well, not just the Cortina. You see, I was wondering if I could borrow you for the weekend?”

Gene looked puzzled for a moment, before he blanked his expression as his mind took that remark to a much dirtier place. Quickly shaking his head to push such thoughts away, Gene barked “What the hell are you on about Tyler?”

Sam sighed. “Well, I was hoping you might help me move Guv. And maybe, if you’re not doing anything this weekend, help me do a little decorating?”

There was a pregnant pause, and Sam realised that it really was a lot to ask, requesting Gene give up his entire weekend, so Sam was quick to add some incentives.

“And in return, I’ll feed you properly for a few days. I’ll even do you a proper fry up for breakfast – the works.”

“You? Cook for me?”

“Yes Guv. You have eaten my food before, even complimented it – well, as close as you get to a compliment. Look, you come round to mine Saturday, and I’ll make you your fry up; bacon, fried bread, black pudding – everything. We drop my things off at the house, nip to B&Q for the paint and stuff, and spend Saturday decorating. I cook you a meal of your choice for tea – including pudding. I’ll even throw in a bottle of whisky. So? Will you help?”

Sam looked at Gene, sitting there deliberating. Even though he wasn’t showing it, and Sam doubted he would ever admit it, he knew that Gene enjoyed his cooking, and would therefore agree. But Sam decided to play along.

Catching Gene’s gaze, Sam looked at him imploringly, batting his eyelashes in an over-exaggerated fashion as he ‘begged’, “Please Guv.”

The sound of his DI begging, (even if only in jest) made Gene fidget in an attempt to subdue his body’s reaction. “All right you great fairy. One bloody gorgeous cop and his Cortina will be at yours for brekkie Saturday.”

If possible, Sam’s smile became larger than the one he entered with.  
“Tyler, calm down those pearly whites before you blind someone!”

Chuckling, Sam saluted his boss “Yes Guv!” before turning to the door.

His hand was on the doorknob when Gene spoke; “Sam, I have to ask…why me? Why not ask Chris or the plonk?”

Sam winced inwardly, glad that he had thought this through and had come up with a cover-story beforehand; it’s not like he could tell the Guv that he wanted to spend more time with the man he had only recently realised that he was in love with, outside of the workplace!

“Well, both Annie and Chris spend the weekend with their parents, and anyway, could you see Annie painting? Or Chris doing manual labour without breaking something?”

With a bark of laughter, Gene conceded that Sam had a point.

“OK Sammy-boy, and on that note, I think that it’s about beer o’clock. And I think that with me giving you Friday off, **and** you getting my gorgeous self assisting you this weekend, that you owe me a drink – or three. So, pub?”

Rolling his eyes, Sam nevertheless agreed, and fell into step beside the older man as they left the station.

*****

By the time Friday rolled around, Sam was back to sleeping on the cot – as the bed was already in the house, along with his newly purchased (on the tick, as close to ‘his’ as he’d be able to afford in the ‘70’s) furniture. The majority of his things were already boxed up in the flat, each box carefully labelled by room, with a list of what each box contained taped to the top.

Sam spent most of Friday scrubbing his new home like an OCD housewife, working his way through the house until each room was spotless. Managing to run to the shops, he purchased what he needed to make Gene’s fry-up, as well as bits for making sandwiches for lunch, before collecting together everything he needed for the lasagne (which he was to make from scratch – including the garlic bread – not like he could find it ready-made in 1975) and the trifle that Gene had requested for tea. Making a last stop at an off-license for Gene’s whisky, Sam put everything away in his new kitchen, before taking himself and the breakfast things back to his flat. 

He slept like a baby, knowing that it would be the last night he would ever have to spend in that dank, poky little flat.

*****

A little after nine on Saturday morning, Sam was just finishing the last of his breakfast when he heard the screech of tires and the distinctive sound of a large car slamming into a group of metal rubbish bins. 

By the time Gene had reached the corridor leading to Sam’s flat, the smell the bacon sizzling away was already permeating the air. Sam had even had the forethought to unlock the door, meaning that rather than kicking it down, Gene just walked in and sat himself down at the table with little more than a grunt. 

Placing a plate almost overflowing with artery-clogging, greasy and yet delicious-smelling food that constituted a traditional English breakfast in front of him, along with a mug of strong black coffee, Sam hoped that the combination of grease and caffeine was enough to wake Gene up. At least enough that he would manage to string a sentence together! 

Sam had been glad for Gene’s inattentiveness to detail upon his arrival though, as it gave him time to adjust to the sight of Gene in casual clothes; more specifically, to the sight of Gene Hunt in worn jeans and a t-shirt.

*****

Pushing his empty plate aside with a large belch, Gene sat back for a few minutes to allow the food to digest before manoeuvring himself out of his seat and striding over to the piles of boxes awaiting at the door. After querying the whereabouts of Sam’s new bed, and being informed that it was already at the new house, Gene picked up several boxes and barked; “Come on then Gladys, we haven’t got all day! And there’s no way I can be arsed making more ‘n one trip, so all this lot better fit in the car!” 

*****

With Sam’s precise directions, it did not take long to arrive at their destination. Sam walked ahead to unlock the door before returning to the car. As he took several boxes out of the boot, he pointed out to Gene that each box was clearly labelled, and could they all be placed in their respective rooms, so as to make the unpacking as easy as possible. Muttering about anal little pains in the arse, Gene stuffed a box under each arm and followed him through the door. 

Once all of the boxes had been brought in, Gene was ready to speed off and do whatever shopping was necessary. However, Sam demanded that the kitchen things be unpacked and put away before they did anything else, declaring that he would not be able to prepare Gene’s dinner if he did not have the necessary equipment to hand.

At the reminder of the meal that he had inwardly been looking forward to since Sam first bribed him with it, Gene agreed to assist, grumbling the entire time that he did not spend this much time in his own kitchen, never mind someone else’s.

*****

Upon arriving at B&Q, Sam was his usual methodical and organised self. He had written a list of everything he needed for each room; mainly in terms of shelving and a few bookcases. The last thing on his list was paint. Most of the house was alright, but he had already removed the garish flowered wallpaper from the bedrooms, and had decided to paint the walls rather than trying to hunt out suitable wallpaper. 

He was completely engrossed as he walked down the aisles, occasionally glancing at Gene out of the corner of his eye to check the colours matched. 

Luckily for Gene, Sam’s focus upon the task at hand meant that he did not catch Gene’s inability to keep his eyes off his arse as he bent to look at the tins on the lower shelves. Gene had always thought that the trousers Sam wore for work looked like they had been painted on, but the sight of Sam in those Levi’s…they clung to him like a second skin, bringing all the dirtiest thoughts Gene had ever had about that arse to the forefront of his mind. Not the best thoughts to be having about your subordinate – especially not in the middle of B&Q.

Placing the tins of hazel green and camel beige paint in the trolley, Sam turned his focus on the paint for the second room. Realising that he had no idea what colours to paint that room, he decided to let Gene chose; he would be the only person likely to use that room anyway. Sam quickly regretted that decision when, after a moment of staring at him closely, Gene returned with a tin of paint in a warm coffee colour.

With Gene unable (or unwilling) to explain his choice, Sam could only respond with, “Fine! But the room cannot be entirely brown, that’ll be too dark. It needs another colour - but no orange. It may be the ‘70’s, but I refuse to have any room in my home decorated in brown and orange!”

Gene agreed, but refused to choose another colour; “The Missus says I’m incapable of picking’ colours that actually go together. You pick the other colour.”

Inwardly flinching as the reminder that Gene was not his stabbed him in the heart, Sam mentally went through the colours already in the house and decided to go with a nice blue – what would have been called ‘duck egg blue’ back in 2006; although referring to it as such got him a funny look from Gene.

*****

By Saturday evening, they had managed to finish painting the second bedroom, Sam wanting to leave his own bedroom till the following day so that he would be able to sleep in his own bed that night. Tired, but pleased with themselves, Sam left Gene to have a nap on his new sofa (which Gene had already commented was rather large for ‘a tiny skinny lil nancy-boy like yourself’), whilst he prepared their meal.

Sam took the fact that Gene had taken second – and third, helpings of both the lasagne and the trifle as a compliment. Sam had refused to allow Gene to drink whisky with the meal, instead offering him a rather potent red wine, informing him that it would taste much better with the meal. In spite of his muttering that ‘wine is for ponces’, Gene managed to drink almost the entire bottle himself, as Sam had switched to water after one glass.

Between the wine and the whisky Sam had purchased for him, by the time they had adjourned to the living room after dinner, Gene was far too drunk to drive home, and Sam refused to allow him to do so. Sam was inwardly revelling in the opportunity to spend more time with Gene, and stated that he would have to stay over, arguing that it made sense anyway, as he would be back tomorrow to help Sam paint. After extracting the promise of another Full English in the morning, Gene agreed.

Once Sam was ready to go up, Gene was practically asleep anyway. Sam offered to let Gene have his bed, but Gene stated that he was happy to sleep on the sofa, commenting that ‘It’s a damn sight more comfy than the lumpy old thing in **my** front room! I can actually fit on this!’

After all the physical work they had undergone that day, both men were tired enough that they fell asleep easily, both filled with thoughts of the other as they drifted off.

*****

As they made their way through Sunday, managing to paint Sam’s bedroom completely, and make reasonable headway with the few bits of DIY attempted (putting up shelves and assembling the bookcases), Sam was surprised by how comfortable they seemed to be in each others company. He understood that they worked together every day, and that was enjoyable in its own way, but the way they interacted at the weekend was different. 

At work, they had to spend time together had to work together. Whereas Gene had chosen (ok, after being bribed, but still) to spend a significant amount of time with him outside of work, and was actually being helpful, doing something nice!

Their banter was still present, but it seemed less barbed. They were completely at ease with each other, laughing more than either could remember laughing in some time. 

There was something almost domestic about the jobs they were doing, and the fact that they were doing them together, just added to the illusion for Sam.

*****

As the sun made its way across the sky, fading to the west, Sam and Gene flopped on the new sofa, worn out from the day’s activity. They bickered about who was going to get up to make a drink, and ended up dozing off mid-argument. 

When Sam woke, it was to find himself far too close to Gene, one arm wrapped around him, and his head resting on Gene’s shoulder. Regardless of how comfortable he was, he knew he could not allow Gene to wake up and find them like this. However much Sam wanted to bury himself in fantasy, it was now Sunday evening. Gene would have to return home soon. Although it was the last thing he wanted to do, Sam quickly moved out of Gene’s embrace, carefully, so as not to wake him.

A little over five minutes later, he returned with a tray containing two cups of tea and a plate of sandwiches, setting them down on the table just as Gene started to stir.

“Get that down you Guv,” Sam said quietly, holding out the cup of piping hot tea, complete with four sugars just how Gene liked it.

Gene accepted the drink with a grunt, incapable of speech until half of it had been gulped down, and he had taken a large bite out of the nearest sandwich.

Sam asks Gene what he thinks of the house.  
It’s about 15 mins walk from station one way, and Railway Arms the other. Perfect location. Damn sight better than Gene – who although it takes him only 5-10 mins to get to work, that’s in the car. Nearer to a ½ hr by foot, and you’d have to add another 15-20 minutes to that to walk to the Arms! Gene comments that he’ll probably end up spending a fair bit of time there due to the fact that it’ll be easier than driving home.

 

Watching the Cortina turn out of the road before closing the door, Sam made his way back into the living room. He was happy with the house, and was sure he would have it exactly how he wanted it very soon, but this weekend had just shown him the one thing he would never have. 

Gene had brought a sense of warmth and safety and fullness to the house that he had never noticed was missing until it was no longer there. Without Gene’s presence the house felt strangely empty.

Regardless, as he settled down in his new bed that night, he looked around the room and smiled. Of course he had felt something when Gene first left, but when he thought about it, Gene’s presence was everywhere in the house after this weekend. And with this room being decorated specifically with Gene in mind, Sam could not help but drift off with a smile on his face, mind full of thoughts of the man he loved. 

*****

The book had been making its way around Plod.

Luckily the fact that the book was set in Liverpool rather than Manchester, and the fact that the Plod knew little about the cases undertaken by CID, meant that a link between Sam and the author ‘John Simm’ was not made. 

There was the chance that someone in CID might actually read the book, and this occasionally worried Sam, but it was a worry he washed away with the thought that he had never known Ray, Chris or Gene to voluntarily read anything longer than a racing form or a newspaper.

But Sam had not counted on the Missus.

*****

Mrs Vera Hunt knew that her marriage was far from perfect. She never knew when her husband was going to be home – and how sober he would be. Going on a night out together was a rarity saved for the Lancashire Constabulary Dinner & Dance. 

However, she also knew that she had it better than some. Gene brought in a healthy wage, had provided her with a lovely home, and had never (and would never) raise a hand to her. She loved Gene in her own way, and knew that he too cared for her, but that feeling of being ‘in love’ was long gone, if it had ever really existed between them.

When her friends started telling her about this great new book ‘Timeless Copper’, she became intrigued. Although she was a policeman’s wife (and not just any policeman, a DCI) she did not actually know much about what his job actually entailed, and the added element of the lead character possibly being from the future appealed to the fantasist in her. So, when she was next in town, she treated herself to a copy.

Her husband was not one to talk about cases; as much due to the fact that he did not want to go over what he had been doing in work all day, as that he did not want to upset her ‘delicate female sensibilities’. 

But from the day his new ‘picky pain in the arse’ DI from Hyde appeared, she had started to hear more. At first, it was just Gene complaining about Sam; how he made him do his paperwork, and went on and on and ON about procedure, and doing things ‘by the book’. But as he told her a little about some of the cases they handled together, she began to hear a mounting, if grudging, respect for the man Gene so rarely referred to by his given name.

After the fiasco that was Gene’s arrest on suspicion of murder, his explanation for his disappearance revealed a trust in his DI that she knew Gene had in few people. She realised that Gene held the opinion and friendship of this young man in higher esteem than even Ray Carling – a man who had made his way through the force alongside Gene.

And as Gene’s respect for his newest team member grew, Vera noticed that Gene seemed more willing to allow Sam to go through his ‘nancy-boy procedure’, she even got to hear praise when it assisted in the capture of a criminal – something she doubted he actually said to Sam.

Now she was having a strange sense of déjà vu as she read over some of the cases; as if she had heard them before – albeit from a different perspective.

Reading back over some of the sections focused on ‘Gareth Harris’, she once again noticed similarities between the character and her own equally gruff DCI. But as she skimmed back over the chapter which introduced the reader to all the 1973 characters, and saw the words ‘bronze Cortina’, the penny dropped. The character was not like her Gene, he WAS Gene! That meant that the author, that ‘John Simm’, was none other than Sam Tyler!

*****

Vera did not really know what to make of this realisation, knowing that she could not tell her husband until she had proof. She returned to the book, each scene becoming much easier to visualise, as she now had faces to put to the characters. 

It was an enjoyable and engrossing story, and as she sat in bed of a night reading, she dropped hints that Gene may want to read it himself. 

As she continued to read, and her attention to the characters heightened, she felt like something was missing, like she was missing something. But what? She could not explain it, even to herself, but it just strengthened her resolve. She wanted to meet the man who could write such detailed and evocative words. The book was incredibly detailed and very well-written, and as she got nearer to the end she became more and more determined to meet the author. She had always been formally introduced to Gene’s other DI’s; it was about time she met Sam Tyler. 

*****

Gene had felt a little uncomfortable at the thought of his wife and his DI in a room together ever since it was first mentioned, but when she got ‘that look’ on her face, he knew not to overstep the mark, so he agreed to pass on the invitation at the first opportunity.

The workday was drawing to a close and Gene had yet to talk to Tyler. Seeing that Sam was pulling on his leather jacket and making for the door with the rest of the team, Gene quickly yanked open his office door and yelled; “Tyler! A word in your shell-like.”

“Well, come on then Guv, we can talk and walk right?”

“In here Gladys. Now. You go on ahead lads; we’ll be there in a few. Mine’s a bitter, Ray – and better get one for Dorothy ‘ere ‘n’ all!”

Closing the door behind him, Sam stood in front of Gene questioningly. Gene opened his mouth, closing it when nothing came out. Grabbing a hip flask from – somewhere on his person, he took a quick swig before just blurting it all out.

“Right, y’see Tyler, it has recently come to the attention of the Missus that she has not yet had the pleasure of your company. For some bizarre reason, she’s decided she wants to meet you. So you’re coming round on Saturday for tea. It’ll probably be summat Italian – she’s been taking some cooking class.”

Sam blinked; he had certainly not seen that coming. 

“Erm...okay then Guv. Tell her thank you for the invitation.”

With a nod, Gene took another quick swig before placing the flask back where he found it and grabbing up his coat. Striding past the smaller man, he cocked his head towards the door. “Come on then Tyler, beer beckons!”

*****

Sam felt nervous as he walked up the driveway, wine in hand. He had had to stop himself from putting on a tie, knowing that it would invite Gene to take the piss. Instead, Sam had opted for his best black cords and usual leather jacket, but teamed with a new shirt that he had purchased simply because the colour matched Gene’s eyes exactly. 

The door finally opened to reveal the mystery (to Sam) that was Mrs Hunt. 

“Good evening, you must be Sam Tyler! I’m Vera Hunt. Do come in!”

As she stepped back to allow Sam inside, Sam blinked repeatedly to avoid staring at her. He was not sure what he was expecting, but she did not seem to fit the bill. Quite tall for a woman; about Sam’s height, she was rather plump, but had a cheerful disposition and a lovely smile. Sam felt sure he was going to like her despite himself.

Taking in the apron – covered in flour, Sam quirked an eyebrow, wondering why she was answering the door. Vera seemed to be able to read his expression, and as she took his leather jacket to hang on the coat stand, she said; “Gene is just upstairs in the shower-” Cocking her head to one side for a moment, she listened, before continuing; “Make that just out of the shower. So he’ll be down in a few minutes. Until then, why don’t you come through to the kitchen and keep me company.”

Sam stood frozen for a moment; his mind seemed to have stopped working as soon as it registered the words ‘Gene’ and ‘shower’ in the same sentence! 

When Vera reached the kitchen door and realised that Sam was not behind her, she turned to see that he was standing stock-still in the hallway, barely in the house. “Well come on then young Mr Tyler! I didn’t invite you to tea to have you stand in the hallway all night!”

Jolted out of his daydream, Sam felt a flush come to his cheeks, and walked quickly down the hall and into the warm kitchen. 

Quickly settling him at the table, she put the kettle on and continued to potter around as Sam was sure she was doing before he arrived. As she set a cup of piping hot tea in front of him, he remembered the bottle of wine he was still clutching in his hand. Holding it out to her, he smiled sheepishly. “This is for you. Gene said you were cooking Italian, so this should go nicely.”

She smiled back at him, “Why thank you Sam. That was very thoughtful of you.”

“What’s he done now? You making me look bad Sammy-Boy?” 

The man himself was leaning in the doorway, and Sam had to stop himself from jumping in surprise at the sound of his voice, in spite of having heard him thunder his way down the stairs. As he turned to face him, Sam also had to concentrate on not losing his train of thought at the sight.

Sam had seen Gene in a suit before, but they were usually ill-fitting or cheap, easy-to-clean material (or both). And the layers Gene tended to wear at work hid the body beneath quite well. But tonight, standing before Sam, Gene looked years younger. In perfectly fitted black trousers and a white shirt, Sam had to swallow to stop himself from drooling!

After a moment, Sam managed to reply. “I’m just using those manners that you commented on Guv. And here-” sticking a hand in his pocket, he threw the contents at Gene. “Don’t say I never bring you anything.”

Catching them automatically, Gene did nothing to hide his grin as he proclaimed; “Sherbet fountains!” 

However, before he could rip one open, there was a tutting noise, and a hand was held out before him. “Not before dinner Gene.”

Sam watched Gene handing them over to his wife with a pout, and smirked at him. Gene waited until his wife’s back was turned before cuffing Sam round the head. 

******

Vera was not sure how she felt about how the meal had gone. Sam was the perfect guest, very polite – commenting that they had a lovely home and complimenting the food; although he failed to hide his smile when Gene declared that Sam’s lasagna was better than her Spag-Bol. He was more of a gentleman than Vera had come to expect from Gene’s friends and colleagues, attempting to include her in the conversation as much as possible; which was difficult, because him and Gene seemed to have entire conversations without saying a word at times. 

In spite of Sam’s occasional attempts to steer the conversation away from work, she lost count of the times Sam finished Gene’s sentences, and she had caught him staring at Gene with a look she had not been able to define, but that stayed with her long after dinner was over.

She had also been surprised to find that Gene was not indulging in the wine, but assumed that he wanted to avoid having his mouth run away with him; as he had stopped drinking the alcohol soon after the slip-up about her Bolognese. But Sam had no such compunction, and seemed quite happy to indulge. She was somewhat surprised by this, having listened to Gene complain about ‘his nancy boy DI’ not wanting to spend the majority of his spare time drinking in the Railway Arms with the rest of the team, so she had thought Sam was not much of a drinker. She was proved right, as she could tell that Gene was not used to a tipsy and giggling Sam. However, the smile on Gene’s face as Sam wiped some sherbet from his chin made it clear that he was enjoying the change.

She found her feeling that Sam was not much a drinker was even more underlined when she returned from cleaning the dishes (Sam had offered at the beginning of the meal, but she decided he was a little too drunk and sent him into the front room with a cup of tea) to find him fast asleep.

Upon seeing him lying there, managing to sleep on a sofa that Gene was forever claiming to be tremendously uncomfortable, looking so childlike and innocent, she was unable to leave him uncovered. She grabbed Gene’s coat from the arm of his chair, and placed it over the young man curled up on her sofa. 

He clutched the camel-hair close, inhaling deeply, and Vera watched him, only noticing as he relaxed just how tense and worried he had been, even in sleep. 

As she stood over the younger man who seemed to draw a sense of calm from the mere scent of her husband, she was inexplicably drawn to her copy of ‘Timeless Copper’. Opening it, she turned the first blank page, and skimmed over the acknowledgements before turning the page and noticing something; the dedication. 

She froze as she registered those three words, and the true meaning behind them. However, before she could really process her thoughts, her husband lumbered into the room, so she quickly closed the book and put it down before turning to the doorway.

Gene stood before her, looking down at the man curled up on their sofa. “What the hell is he still doing here?” he asked brashly, not bothering to lower his voice.

Making shushing gestures, Vera replied; “Hush you. He’s obviously worn out. Let him rest, he’s doing no harm.”

Gene had to refrain from rolling his eyes at his wife, instead grumbling, “Fine then. But if he’s staying here, then I’m making him make the brekkie in the morning!”

Before Vera could comment on that remark, Gene let out a huge yawn. “Anyway, I’m going up luv. You coming?”

Vera knew that she would not be able to sleep until she had processed what she had just discovered, so she told Gene she would be up ‘in a bit’, and accepted his peck on the cheek with a small smile.

She watched him walk to the doorway and then stop. Turning back, he gazed at Sam for a moment, saying quietly, “G’night then Sammy boy” before making his way upstairs without so much as a glance back at her.

Vera picked up the book and read over those words again. It had taken seeing those three words for everything to fall into place. She knew what she was missing when she was reading the book now. Thinking it over, she could tell that parts of the story, scenes, snippets of dialogue, had probably been omitted in an attempt to hide this emotion, accounting for her feeling that something was missing. But once she had read that dedication, she could read between the lines of every scene between ‘Gareth’ and ‘Steven’. She could see the love the DI had for his DCI. 

Looking down at the young man who looked so childlike sleeping on her settee, she could not help but feel sorry for him. She may not love Gene like that any more, but she remembered how she felt when she first fell for him. She could not imagine the pain of working with someone every day and having to hide such feelings.

But what was she going to do about it? When it comes down to it, this man is in love with her husband! Should she talk to Sam in the morning? And what could she possibly say? She could hardly blurt out over breakfast ‘So, how long have you fancied my husband?’

Taking a deep breath, Vera tried to calm down before she started to panic herself with questions. It was late, now was not the time to be making such decisions.  
Making sure than Sam was sufficiently warm; (putting a blanket over him just in case he decided to loosen his grip on Gene’s camel coat) she placed a glass of water on the side table for him if he woke up, and made her way upstairs. She knew she would have to talk to Sam at some point, but she could think about that in the morning. 

*****

After finally settling down in bed beside her husband, it felt like merely minutes later she was woken by the feeling of Gene getting out of bed. It had not been the phone that awoke her, so she knew he was not being called out to work. It was then that she registered a noise; of Sam shouting in his sleep.

Starting to rise herself, she was stopped by a pat on the arm from Gene.

“Don’t worry about it love, I’ll sort it. You just go back to sleep.” And with a kiss to her forehead, he grabbed up his dressing gown and rushed down the stairs.

However, Vera was not to be deterred, and lay there for only a few moments before following her husband.

Having listened to Sam refer to Gene as ‘Guv’ all evening, she was surprised to hear him shouting for ‘Gene!’ But it was the obvious fear in his voice that made her creep down the stairs to see what was going on.

Looking through the crack in the door, she could see her husband crouched on the floor beside the settee, and watched him grasp Sam by the shoulder and attempt to shake him awake.

“Sam! Sammy boy, wake up now! It’s just a dream Sam. SAM!”

She could see the tear-tracks on Sam’s face: tears that had fallen in sleep and continued to fall even as he awoke with a start and another heart-wrenching cry for his DCI.

“Gene!”

Wrapping an arm around the smaller man, Gene whispered, “It’s me Sammy. I’m here.”

Blinking, Sam grabbed Gene’s dressing gown and clung tightly as he tried to control his tears.

“But Gene, it was...you were…”

Gene just tightened his grip and said “It was just a nightmare Sammy boy. I’m fine, I promise.”

Sam looked Gene square in the face for a moment, as if memorising him, before closing his eyes and breathing in and out slowly in an attempt to push away the dream. But closing his eyes only brought back the image of the person he loved most in the world, dead on the floor in front of him. 

Unable to stop himself from shaking, Sam’s grip on Gene tightened, and as Gene’s other arm went around his back Sam took it as acceptance and buried his face in Gene’s neck.

Gene gathered him into his embrace; pushing himself onto the couch beside Sam as he rocked him slightly.

Watching Sam relax into Gene’s embrace, Vera could see that Sam felt the same thing she did when those burly arms were around her; safe. 

The fact that her Gene had been so physical in comforting Sam, and that he did so without hesitation, made her realise that such an incident was not a new occurrence. Gene was not a physical person – yes, he was quick with his fists at work, but he was not one for emotion – especially tears, and physical affection for someone other than her was very rare unless it concerned football.

Realising quite how out of character such actions were for both men, she felt she was intruding on an inherently private moment, and so she crept back upstairs.

*****

It was not long before Gene returned, his hair even more mussed than it was when he first woke up, and his dressing gown practically undone. To anyone else, she was sure that he looked like he had just had a jolly old romp, but having observed what she had, she knew that even if Gene did have those sort of feelings for Sam, he would never have taken advantage at such an emotional moment.

“Is Sam all right?” Vera asked, truly concerned, in spite of all the questions the incident had brought to her mind about their marriage. Questions which Vera had already decided to consider in the morning.

Gene just stared at nothing for a moment, and she could see how exhausted he was, but she could also see the concern in his eyes. Putting a comforting hand on his arm seemed to jolt Gene from his reverie, and he looked down at his wife apologetically as he made his way back into bed.

“Sorry ‘bout that love. He’s asleep again now.”

“Does that happen often?” she asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

“Well, he’s fallen asleep in the office a few times, and it’s happened once or twice when I’ve kipped at the flat.”

“The poor boy. Nightmares at his age. Must be worse when you live alone.”

The silence that followed that statement seemed heavy with tension, and so she was quick to fill it. 

“You know what the nightmares are about?”

Gene just looked up at the ceiling, not meeting Vera’s questioning gaze as he replied; “Nightmare. Always about the same thing – that’s about as much as he’s admitted. But when he first wakes up, sometimes I think he still thinks he’s in the dream because…..because they’re about me.” 

Having twigged to Sam’s feelings for her husband, Vera would have thought that any dreams Sam had about him would be far from nightmarish, and far more likely to cause a need for clean bedding in the morning! 

“What makes you think that?”

Gene turned to face her with raised eyebrows, “You mean, apart from the fact he’s shouting for me? He…he told me.”

There was an inflection in his tone that made her suspicious; she could not imagine Sam being quite so quick to divulge such personal information. 

“He told you entirely of his own accord? Or did you ‘exchange words’ first?”

In spite of the darkness, Vera was sure Gene had a sheepish look on his face.  
“Well….  
(what did gene do to make tell him?! Hit him? Threaten him? Blackmail him? Or bribe him?)

“Eugene Hunt!” Vera admonished. “I guess you had his best interests at heart. It can’t be easy for him, bottling it all up like that. I guess he’s got you…how do you say it…in his corner?”

Gene chuckled. “Don’t use sports metaphors love, it’s disturbing. But I guess you’re right.”

 

 

Once again, I have NO IDEA how to end this scene 

 

Gene woke the following day to the smell of a proper Sunday morning fry-up.  
Momentarily confused at the sight of Vera dressing for church rather than downstairs cooking, a broad grin appeared on his sleepy face when he remembered who else was there. He was already licking his lips as he grabbed his dressing gown and made his way downstairs.

He walked into the kitchen to be greeted by a sheepish-looking Sam; who seemed surprisingly bright-eyed and looked unfairly delicious in a shirt of Gene’s, sleeves rolled up and shirt tails at his knees.

Yawning widely in an attempt to cover his reaction to the sight of Sam in his clothes, Gene plonked himself down at the kitchen table and picked up his knife and fork in readiness.

“Surprised to see you so awake Sammy-boy, but glad if it means I get one of your breakfasts!”

Sam smiled, placing the somewhat over-loaded plate in front of him. “I had a pretty good sleep, apart from…”

Mouth full, Gene shook his head. “Forget about it Gladys. At least until the Missus starts asking if you’re ok.” 

Sam nodded, hesitating momentarily before placing a hand on Gene’s arm, and proclaiming quietly, “Thanks Guv. For last night. And for not taking the piss outta me in the morning.”

Looking up from his plate to glare at his subordinate, Gene growled, “Have I ever took the piss about that?”

Softening at the look on Sam’s face, he placed a hand over the one still on his arm, and swallowed the food in his mouth before continuing gruffly, “I wouldn’t. I just…I just wish I could get rid of ‘em for ya.”

Any response Sam may have made was halted by Vera walking into the kitchen in a cloud of perfume and her Sunday best.

Quickly removing his hand, Gene shoveled in another large mouthful and Sam jumped up to offer Vera a cup of tea. 

“I can’t believe he has you cooking – you’re a guest! But I have to admit, it all smells lovely, and Gene is always saying how wonderful your fry-ups are.” 

Raising an eyebrow at Gene at that comment, Sam put the kettle on before turning to Vera and replying.

“I don’t mind really Mrs H- Vera. I quite enjoy cooking. I’m just making up a second plate for the Guv, is there anything in particular you’d like before he eats it all?”

“Some scrambled eggs and fried bread would be lovely, thank you Samuel.”

 

Once both Hunts had been fed – Gene clearing his pate for the second time, Sam went upstairs to get washed and changed back into his own clothes.  
As he walked downstairs it was to find Vera, hat in hand, waiting for him.

“Come on then young Mr Tyler. My church is on the way to your house, so I was hoping you would not mind if I walked with you.”

“Of course Vera. I take it Gene will not be accompanying you to church then?”

Catching the cheeky grin on Sam’s face as he spoke, she smiled indulgently and awaited Gene’s bellowed response.

“No Gene bloody well won’t!”

Shaking her head, she added, “Gene’s not really religious, so while I’m at church, he wades his way through the Sunday paper, and today **he’s going to mow the lawn!** ” That last part was said at a noticeably louder volume and rather pointedly aimed at her husband still sitting at the kitchen table.

“Well then Vera, shall we be off?” Sam offered his arm, which she took with a smile.  
With each saying their individual goodbyes to Gene, they closed the door behind them.

They walked down the street in silence for several minutes before Vera finally spoke. “I want to thank you for coming last night Samuel. I doubt Gene made it sound particularly exciting. But I’m glad you came.”

“And thank you for inviting me, I had a lovely time.”

She smiled. “You’re such a gentleman. It’s refreshing. I think you’re a good influence on Gene.”

Sam grinned wryly “I wish! Nah, I’m just his ‘picky pain in the arse DI’, but thank you.”

She knew that it was unlikely Gene ever told Sam when he had done a good job, but hearing his total disbelief was somewhat of a surprise. 

As they walked, she confided in him a few things that Gene did not know that she knew; namely, that he had taken backhanders, and that he had stopped not long after Sam first arrived. As they arrived at the church, she led him over to a nearby bench and explained.

“You see Sam, Gene **is** the job, and over the last few years I have had to watch him disintegrate. He walked with slumped shoulders, and the only time he seemed happy was when he stumbled in after a good night at the Arms. But now? He’s more like he was when he first joined CID. He has always been proud of his job, but some of that pride seemed to seep out of him when he started taking the backhanders. And now he walks with his shoulders straight. He’s proud of the work he is doing again and all the happier for it. And yes, to others he may come across as arrogant, but I am happy to see him standing tall and proud, ready to take on the world – and win. And all of that is thanks to you.”

 

 

Sam looked down at the ground, almost bashfully, but when he finally raised his eyes to hers again, the smile on his face and the light in his eyes (not to mention the sheen of unshed tears) informed her of how much her words had meant.

Placing a hand on his arm, she continued, “And I mean it Sam. You may have arrived into his life unexpectedly, and you may not always see eye to eye, but you’re a good influence on Gene. I mean, he seems so much happier that I actually feel like I could try and have a real conversation with him about something I want to do.”

Seeing the curiosity in his face, she proceeded to explain that she wished to return to work, but had been worried about Gene’s reaction. Somewhat indignant on her behalf, Sam muttered something about Gene being an ‘out of date, backward sexist old git’ but with a slight smile on his face that suggested he was long used to Gene’s ways, before assuring Vera that he would speak to the aforementioned ‘out of date, sexist git’, and inform him that she would be returning to work. 

Thanking Sam, she stood up from the bench – Sam (being the well mannered young man that he is) quickly standing as well. She looked at him for a moment, before saying, “I meant what I said earlier Sam, you’re a good influence on Gene. He’s a happier and better person since you came into his life, and I will always be grateful to you for that. I have faith that you will look after him when I can’t, and you’re welcome at the house anytime. You remember that.” 

Pressing a light kiss to his cheek, she did not give him a chance to respond before she walked towards the pathway leading to the church doors, having to sneak in the side door because the service had already begun.

As Sam walked the remainder of the way home, he could not help but smile proudly as he went over what Vera had said to him. He loved Gene just as he was, but he was glad to know that he seemed to bringing out the best in him. 

Once he had arrived home, and he went over everything that had happened whilst he had been in the Hunt household, he did wonder whether Vera had caught on to his feelings for her husband. He knew from experience that women were more perceptive than men when it came to such matters; which had worked in his favour thus far, as it gave him a confidante in Annie, without having to worry about the Guv cottoning on. But as Sam thought about it, the dread that had initially churned around his stomach at the idea of her knowing started to fade. Since he first discovered Gene was married, he had been surprised, as Sam did not think that Gene had time for anything in his life other than the job. After meeting Vera, however nice she was, Sam knew he had been right. Although he could tell that there was affection between them, Sam could not see any real love. If it had ever been there, Sam believed it to be long gone – on both their parts. So, even though Sam did not ever plan on revealing his feelings to the other man, and regardless of the fact that he was glad that Gene had someone to care for him, he felt that if Vera did know of his feelings for her husband, she would not be angry with him.


End file.
